


Rebuild

by mermatee



Series: Ghost Stories [4]
Category: Ghost - Mystery Skulls (Music Video)
Genre: Bit of back story on green cave demon, Bushels and furlongs of angst, Early Days, Forgiveness, Multi, y'know the usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-07 08:57:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3169013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mermatee/pseuds/mermatee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lewis knows the truth about his death, but isn't finding it any easier to deal with. Mystery has apparently been bestowed with the title of "Post-mortal guidance counselor". Arthur is trying to give Lewis some space, if only people (and ghosts) would let him. Also, there is no force more formidable than that of Vivi with a potential case.<br/>Sequel to Reunions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lewis

“Do I scare you?”

Vivi snorted. “Ever seen me scared of ghosts before?”

“You ran away from me when you first saw me.”

“And whose fault was that? I was mostly trying to make sure you didn’t kill Arthur.”

“How did you know I was going to kill him?”

“Well, I saw him running away in terror from a pissed-looking, if very suave, skeleton and assumed you weren’t about to demand he stay for coffee or whatever. Actually, that was kind of the reason I doubted it was you. I don’t think I even remember the last time I saw you angry. The fire pompadour thing did help, that was considerate of you.”

“Again, mostly for Arthur’s benefit. I figured the skeleton look would scare him shitless, but I also wanted him to know it was me, you know?”

“So how did you do it?”

“Do what?”

Vivi took a sip of tea and looked at him curiously. “You look pretty solid. Sometimes, bits of you flicker when you move, but I don’t think anyone would notice unless they were looking for it. How do you do that? Can you still walk through walls and stuff? Of course you can, I mean, you possessed Arthur-“

“I’m fairly sure that Arthur does not have the same molecular structure as a wall.”

Vivi clearly wasn’t listening.

“So you can sort of adjust levels of solidity? Do you just will it? How come you can do it? Most of the ghosts I’ve worked with haven’t-“

“-Vivi-“

“How did you make the mansion? It was amazing, like, it was completely solid and even dusty as shit, but there was food there, how did you get food? Wait, can you conjure up food? Because that is insane. We’ll save a fortune on groceries if you can just produce a ghost steak or whatever out of thin air-“

“Vi-“

“Those paintings, were those you too, or different ghosts? Did you have to call in favours or something? I wanna meet your ghost friends.”

She was rambling now, and Lewis noticed her voice getting shaky. She had been alarmingly practical when she first tore up in an unfamiliar white car, giving the cave a pained glance and greeting Lewis with a somewhat blunt “Where is he?”

Lewis had nodded towards Arthur’s still form on the ground. He couldn’t exactly tell how long he had been unconscious for, possessing neither a watch, nor a firm grasp on the passage of time. All he knew was that he had torn himself from Arthur’s flimsy body to be greeted with the sight of said body falling to the ground with a thump, starfished out, face turned up at the stars. That, and the knowledge that his rage, his desire for revenge, everything that had made him so strong and so terrifying, had been misplaced for what felt like eons.

He didn’t know which felt worse.

So, he rolled Arthur onto his side, and watched as his breathing steadied and blood started to trickle, then stream from his nose, streaking across the right hand side of his face and dripping on the grass. He considered what he had just seen, the dense ball of green fog, sparking painfully and filling the lungs, heart, soul of anyone trapped by it. The feeling had been indescribable, the notion of having a body, restricted and weak, clumsily slipping on damn rocks that his own feet hadn't truly touched in... had it really been over a year?

He didn't know what else to do. So he waited. 

*

Vivi was still talking. 

“What was it like in that cave? Arthur said something in there made him push you, did you meet-”

He gave up and pressed a hand over her mouth. She froze for a moment, touched his hand. He took it away, still letting her trace her fingers over it.

“You know those super powerful hand dryers in the bathrooms at the mall?” she wasn't meeting his gaze, but he wasn't oblivious to the tear snaking its way down her cheek, eyelashes wet and spiky. “Feels like that. Like... warm, and air pressure, but contained in a certain form, you know? Kinda crackly as well. Static. God, I missed you. You do know that, right?”

A brief silence. She wiped her face with her sweater sleeve, and continued. 

“I did keep looking for you. It was shitty of me, but I was scared you'd crossed over, that you wouldn't say goodbye to me properly. I thought you might be angry with me. You know, for dragging you there in the first place. And I didn't want to forget you. The last time I saw you, you had your back to me, you were walking off with Arthur, and I was too psyched about the cave to say goodbye to either of you, and-”

“That wasn't the last time you saw me.”

“I know. Mystery said you'd probably done something to make sure I forgot seeing you like that.”

“I couldn't- Vivi, the look on your face. I don't know how I did it, but I couldn't let that be your last memory of me. I saw the body, afterwards, when they came to take it away.” She was openly crying now, and God, he never knew what to do, everything he'd thought had been wrong and- 

He wrapped his arms around her in a rough approximation of a regular hug. To his surprise, she was able to lean into him. Something about his energy seemed to repel her just enough to render him solid from her perspective. 

“I missed you too. So fucking much.” 

“You'll stay, right? Even just for a little while?” She looked up at him, a warm pressure in his arms, exhausted and tearful, and he remembered how he could never say no to her even in life. He adjusted her hair band (there was something comforting about the fact that, despite her seeming somehow sadder, slower, more tired than a year ago, she still wore that thing). 

“I don't think I have a choice for now. But... I don't know, even if I did, this can't be the end. It can't just be life, death, shithole cave, the end. I just feel like... I dunno, I have some purpose? I need things to do, Vivi. I've literally sat stewing in a cave for over a year, fuelled entirely by wanting to kill someone, with only that thing for company-”

“The thing that pushed you.”

Lewis froze. Something seemed so alien about that sentence. He had never been naïve enough to consider it to be a benevolent force, but it had been all he had for so long. It had agreed with him when he exploded in futile rage aimed at a man no longer there, it had allowed him to speak of Vivi without allowing him to get caught up in his emotions, to lose focus. 

It had destroyed both him and Arthur in one way or another. That fact left them on almost the same level. And he didn't know how to react to the idea that the main source of his power as a spirit was also one and the same. He would have fought the spirit off, he decided. He hadn't, not after death, but wouldn't he have had the strength in life to disobey it? Vivi was staring owlishly at him, the bags under her eyes painfully clear now that her glasses had slipped down her nose. 

“Yes. That thing.”

“You know that Arthur didn't push you of his own free will? I'm not going to have to make sure you don't kill him once my back is turned?”

“I promise. I won't kill him, and I won't harm him. But you have to understand, I'm just finding out about this now, Vivi. I've spent so long gaining power just from hating him. That was all I had. All I knew was that I was dead because of him. And now, I don't know what I have. I don't have that cave thing any more. I'm not alive, so I don't have a real body, I don't have my family because they probably think I'm playing a fucking harp somewhere in the sky, I don't have Arthur or even how much I hate him since I don't even know how I feel about that yet.”

“You have me, though. Duh.” She managed a watery smile, cupping the side of his face in her hand. “You know I'll do whatever I can to help, right? Just... don't make rash decisions. Talk to me. And Mystery. Hey, did you know he can talk? I figure I can tell you that, you're a ghost, you can't really freak out about a demon dog thing.”

“I knew it. How many times did I say that dog understood us? Where is he, anyway?”

“Keeping an eye on Arthur.” Vivi returned to her rapidly cooling tea. “I cleaned most of the blood off him, but I thought he needed sleep more, and that was a pretty epic Andrew WK impression he managed. He'll be picking dried blood out of his goatee for weeks.”

“Don't you think he should be in hospital?”

“On what grounds? I can't really tell them he got possessed by a ghost, if I did that, I'd be the only one spending the night in hospital.”

“Did he go to hospital after what happened... you know. Last time.”

“Yeah, I mean, he was missing an arm. Mystery managed to come up with some bullshit about a bear attack.”

“Wait, how did he even lose his arm? I noticed it earlier, how did that happen?”

“Mystery ripped it off just after he- the green thing pushed you. Of course, nobody bothered to tell me until a few hours ago, I was told a bear ripped it off.” She gave a bitter laugh. “Ask Arthur or Mystery, those two assholes are the only ones to have the full story. The demon thing pretending to be a dog and the guy who nearly died of blood loss and still wakes up screaming.”

*

There was a point, in the cave, at which Lewis realised that, while he wasn't powerful enough to leave the cave itself, he was somehow able to drift further from the spot of his death every day. The relief was hardly significant compared to his (his what? Anger? It hardly even seemed like burning rage, he seemed to be getting more methodical by the day), but as he grew stronger, the entrance to the cave glowing and dimming almost rapidly, like one of those time lapse videos of a flower blooming and wilting, he could pick up stones. Stronger still, and he could make marks in the ground. And that's how he found himself making rough lines as a point of reference, confirming to him, if no-one else, that there was an opportunity for freedom. Sometimes, it felt as though the formless spirits were cheering him on, making a cheerful humming noise when he drew another mark of achievement. 

The only other coherent spirit in the cave occasionally commented on his progress. 

“Tell me how you plan to leave.”

“Through the entrance. Or exit, in this case.”

“And you think that the cave mouth will let you?”

“Why wouldn't it? I'm gradually getting there. What would be the point in letting me get closer if there's no chance of getting out?”

“What would be the point of keeping any soul trapped in the darkness?”

Lewis lost his focus. The stone he was holding fell through his hand. 

“It ties souls to this place, boy. It is what allows it to exist. It feeds, and takes from you.”

“So I'm trapped here.”

The thought was unbearable. An eternity gazing at sky and grass and people just out of reach. 

“This place will rot you. It can turn you into one of those creatures before you know it.”

Lewis just knew he was talking about the other spirits, one of which was nudging against his arm, looking imploringly up at him with eyes that shone in the darkness. 

“The only way out is to cross. And the only way for you to do that is through an act of atonement from the one responsible for your fate.”

Lewis tried to make a noise of derision, but it just came out as a strange crackling sound that quickly fell into the depths of the cavern below. “What, has he got to say sorry?”

“A life for a life.”

“I have to kill him.”

“You sound almost hesitant.”

“I'm not that kind of person.”

“You also thought he was not that kind of person.”

He didn't know how to respond to that.

*

Vivi had rummaged in the pockets of Arthur's orange vest for a moment before retrieving a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. 

“You still smoke? I thought you quit.”

“I did. Tonight... well, this morning.... I dunno, I just feel like it. Actually, hey, throw out your fire hair thing, I want to see if I can light a smoke on it.”

“You won't. It's not real fire. It can't ignite anything.”

“Spoilsport.” She lit her cigarette and leaned against him. Lewis could hear Mystery shift in the kitchen, a series of lapping sounds. “So are you going to answer my questions? Because I'm curious.”

The hand holding the cigarette was already wavering. Lewis could see her eyes starting to lose focus. He took the cigarette from her, stubbed it out in what he assumed was Arthur's ashtray, and pulled her to his chest. 

“I will. I promise. But you're tired. Can we just... sleep?”

“Do you even need to sleep?”

“No.”

“What, you want to just lie here with me snoring at you?”

“You don't snore. I remember that.”

“Still though, wouldn't that be boring?”

He sighed, tilted her chin upwards. “Please? It won't be, not for me. After a year of that fucking cave, after all that... I just want this. I mean, it's totally up to you, I can leave if you like, or you can go to the bedroom, or-”

“No.” She buried her face in his shoulder. “You're right. I'm tired. You're tired, in another way. We should sleep, or rest, or... whatever. We've got all the time in the world, right?”

He removed her glasses, and set them down on the coffee table. 

“Right. And this is a weird-”

“Don't talk about that.”

“Hm?”

“It's unfathomably weird. We can talk later. I mean, if this isn't a dream. I just want... I don't know. You're here now, I want to make the most of it in case this isn't real, OK?”

Lewis removed her hairband and put it next to her glasses. He debated doing the same with her scarf, but he couldn't see a blanket nearby, and she was already so limp and exhausted against him. 

As she fell asleep, he realised that it had taken no effort to remain solid.


	2. Mystery

It had been a week since Lewis had stepped into the apartment for the first time in what he figured out was one year, two months, and three days. Time seemed to suddenly be of huge importance to him now, either despite or because of it no longer really applying to him. Mystery occasionally found him flipping through old magazines about subjects he wasn’t even interested in, looking at the calendar on the wall, and, now, watching TV. Specifically, an old episode of Wheel of Fortune.

“You must be bored.”

Lewis glanced down at him and shrugged. “Nothing to do. Vivi’s at work, and it’s not like I can go anywhere.”

“Why not?”

“Pretty obvious, don’t you think? People will take one look at me and-“

“-and they will see a man walking his dog.”

“What? No. I’m not taking you for a walk.”

“Then you are a highly irresponsible pet owner.” Mystery walked over to his much-loathed leash, picked it up, and dropped it into Lewis’ lap. “Come on. Walkies, as you call it.”

Lewis’ form flickered in annoyance. “Look, as a demon or whatever hiding out in the body of a dog, your eyesight may not have picked this up, but I look kind of…”

“Ghostly.”

“Yes. Because I am a ghost. People don’t like seeing ghosts. Hence people hiring us to get rid of ghosts, or at least they did. Is that still a thing?”

“Yes. But remember, what did every client say when you asked them how long the hauntings had been going on for?”

Lewis paused to consider this. “At least a few weeks. Except for Mrs. Lackey, she called every few weeks because things kept getting knocked over when she was out of the room. She thought it was the ghost of some tragic poet trying to get her attention. Turned out that, if you have a shitload of cats, stuff gets knocked over.”

“I do not remember her fondly. Still, though, my point stands. No-one is going to see your image flicker and automatically guess correctly. Humans are excellent at denial, from what I gather.”

“And my eyes? They look sort of.... y'know. Dead.”

“How do you know?”

“I looked in a mirror. Obviously.”

“You still have a reflection?”

“Yes, I still have a reflection. If I want to, anyway. Sometimes, I look and there's nothing there, but that's only if I'm not concentrating. Anyway, my point being, I'm quite obviously not alive.”

“So use sunglasses. Your eyes are the only consistent part of your appearance that would indicate your... status.”

“I dunno. I don't feel like it.”

“Lewis.”

“What?”

“Did you really escape a cave that a demon had been trying to leave for years just to spend your... existence sitting in this apartment?”

* 

The last name Mystery could remember before his current one was Pasha, and he was sure he'd had plenty of others since. He wasn't sure why he remembered that name in particular, he barely remembered the faces of the family he lived with at the time. This must have been decades, even centuries before his current “family” were born. He could vaguely recall a woman, a man, and four children, then three children after a painfully cold winter that left them gaunt, with blistered hands and cracked lips. He had stayed until the youngest remaining child left the home. Leaving after the loss seemed almost as cruel years later, but there was only so much time he could spend there as a dog. 

He had fleeting memories of other parts of his life, of endless fields and crowded, filthy streets and dusty towns where the sun hurt his eyes and old men spoke to him as though he were human. But names fell away from him so quickly. He wondered how long it would be before he forgot the names of his friends. Their knowledge of who he was felt both unsettling and liberating; he wasn't limited to a schedule. He could stick around for the rest of their lives, or, in Lewis' case, until he found a way to move on. He could travel. Vivi and Arthur (names were confusing as the years flowed by, he was fairly certain he had never met a Vivi before, although he had probably met an Arthur) could move to opposite ends of the planet and he'd still manage to see them. 

He sometimes considered what he'd name himself, if he had a choice. He was used to just knowing what things and people were as a purpose, or a contained list of characteristics. He had originally, upon being found by Arthur, known him only as food, warmth, and horrible noises (“It's my synth”, he had explained to him one day, while gesturing to that odd structure which was producing the most unnatural sounds seemingly at some physical prompt from him. Mystery had shoved his head under the couch to escape it, but felt guilty when he realised that the boy seemed to actually enjoy using that awful thing). Vivi was conversation; as much as he wished he could respond to her, he did enjoy her talking him through her various theories and projects, knowing somehow that he could understand her, even when no words had been uttered. And Lewis had always been protection. Not so much for him, as for the other two humans he'd grown so strangely fond of, balancing Vivi's bullheaded enthusiasm and Arthur's overly cautious nature. 

Mystery honestly couldn't decide on a name he would pick other than his current one. It occurred to him that it was probably the most accurate one he'd ever had.

* 

“The wind feels nice.” Lewis, having finally given in, seemed oddly elated. 

They were walking through the park, which, on this cold day, was mostly empty. Mystery's leash had been unclipped from his collar, but he still trotted along next to Lewis, just in case. 

Just in case what? He shook his head.

“You can still feel the wind?”

“Sort of. It's different to having skin, I guess. It's like it's blowing through me, but there's some resistance. Like... the night I came back to the apartment, Vivi fell asleep on me, and didn't go right through me. I didn't possess her or anything. How does that even work?”

“A spirit's power can make it more solid.”

“I guess. So why was I able to possess Arthur so easily that night? Shouldn't I have just... I dunno, bumped into him or something, as opposed to actually using his body?”

“My best guess is that it's a combination of two things: you are clearly a strong spirit. You've had enough time, motivation and encouragement to become more than the kind of ghost we used to see. And Arthur is exceptionally easy to influence, especially since...”

Lewis' outline quivered slightly. “Where is he, anyway? I saw him leave for work the morning after I came back, and I haven't seen him since. Has he moved out or something?”

Mystery remembered seeing Arthur with a small rucksack, bags under his eyes, and blood still staining his shirt, quietly taking Galahad's cage, and slipping out, silent, contrite and unaware of a barely visible Lewis watching him.

“I assume he's been staying in the van.”

“Because he thinks I'll kill him?” A passing cyclist gave Lewis an odd look.

“He came to find you believing that you would, remember? No, I think he's simply staying out of the way; he still considers himself responsible for what happened. If I know Arthur, and I believe I do by now, he assumes that you would rather not see him. And try to focus, I can see the sun shining through your shoulder.”

Lewis managed to become more opaque. “So he's living in his van so he doesn't have to talk to me?”

“I think it's more so that you don't have to talk to him.”

Lewis swung a punch at a tree. His fist passed through it, and he let out a yell of frustration. “This is such bullshit. I know it's not really his fault, I know it was that fucking thing in the cave, I know he's sorry, I've basically read his mind. So why am I still pissed at him and not the thing that killed me?”

Mystery sat down, waiting until Lewis' eyes were dim enough not to be seen through his sunglasses. “Forgiveness takes time.”

“But since there's nothing to forgive-”

“So does shifting the blame to the right person, or, in this case, demon.”

Lewis paused for a moment, then continued walking. “It was a demon, then.”

“Well. We recognise our own.”

* 

Vivi had finished work by the time they arrived at the apartment, and had almost certainly been frantically pacing the whole time. Mystery even ducked behind Lewis at her rather piercing “Where the HELL have you two been?”

“Vivi, it's fine. We went for a walk. I wore sunglasses, no-one noticed anything, I just wanted to get out for a little while.”

Vivi stared up at him for a moment, then buried her face in his chest. “I thought you'd gone, both of you.”

“You know we wouldn't do that. I promise. I'll let you know in future, OK? I just wanted some fresh air. Not that I need it now, but anyway. And Mystery needed a walk. We didn't mean to be gone so long.”

“I'm sorry.”

“No, I am. Or we both are. Fuck it, everyone's sorry for something. Vivi, what do we do now?”

Vivi stared resolutely at the floor. “I don't know.” In spite of himself, Mystery found himself licking her hand. 

“This will take time. I don't believe it's a lost cause, but it will take time.” He looked up at both of them, the pair looking so lost. There was a period of silence, and Vivi scratched behind his ears until Lewis spoke. 

“I think you should talk to Arthur. I mean, I think I should talk to Arthur, but you should first. It's a start, right?” 

“Why?”

“Because I want things back to how they were. But since that's more or less impossible, I'll settle for us at least all talking. I left the cave, but whatever was in there twisted everything up, and now I just keep thinking of him, and that day, and I just... I want to be able to separate the two, I really do.” 

Her lips quivered into a weak smile. 

“I'll talk to him.”

*

That night, Mystery watched Lewis channel surf as Vivi slept while slumped across his lap. 

“Any idea what you're going to say to him?”

Lewis shook his head. “Not a clue.”

“I'm sure something will come to you” he offered, sounding unconvincing even to himself. 

Lewis turned the TV off, unable to find anything but infomercials and ancient movies. 

“It'll be fine. I'm already dead, what else can go wrong?”

Mystery looked out of the window at the unoccupied parking space usually containing the van. 

“Very little, I imagine. Goodnight, Lewis.”

“Night."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goddamn that dog is hard to write.   
> Anyway! Usual gubbins applies, reviews/feedback/whatever welcome, and thanks for the kudos, guys.


	3. Arthur

He wasn't sure why he'd gone back to the cave, not when Lewis was now at the apartment, far away from that miserable place. He didn't even remember driving there beyond the repair shop. He had intended to stop there. What made him keep going? He tried to recall his reasoning as he walked down that slope into the cavern. 

They had to have removed Lewis' body, right? They must have done. There would have been an autopsy, they'd have needed it for the funeral, they wouldn't just leave it here. 

And yet, there it lay, bloated and green and staring at Arthur with empty eye sockets. Vivi lay nearby, neck twisted at a strange angle, the same empty eyes gazing up at the ceiling, mouth hanging slightly open. 

Arthur was going to scream for Mystery before he felt sharp teeth sink into his throat, a sad laugh echoing around the cave as every breath produced a warm, bubbling sensation. Furious bangs echoed through the cave, dust and small stones shook from the ceiling, and Lewis and Vivi were still staring emptily into space, as though he wasn't even there-

The bangs soon became knocks, soon became blows to a surface that wasn't his head but felt like it might have been. Arthur jerked awake. There was a muffled voice. 

“Arthur. Arthur! You awake? Come on, open the door.”

Afraid to look, but seeing no other option, Arthur rubbed his eyes, and squinted at his surroundings. 

He was in the van. He was tangled in the nest of blankets he'd assembled in the back. He could hear a metallic rattling sound which was almost certainly Galaham gnawing on the bars of his cage, completely ignoring the various toys he'd bought him. His uncle blurred into focus at the rear window, and he breathed a sigh of relief, reaching forward to open the door. 

Lance was wearing that knitted cap that never left his head during the winter months, and a quilted jacket. More importantly, he held two steaming mugs. He handed one to Arthur, wriggled into the back of the van, and pulled the door shut. Arthur gratefully sipped at his coffee until his uncle spoke. 

“Bad dream?”

“Hm. Kinda.”

“Well, you were screaming the place down, just so you know.”

“Sorry. Thanks for the coffee.”

Lance shivered. “Christ. It's freezing in here. Why'd you leave it til winter to decide to live in a van? I did it one summer and it was rough enough.”

“I don't live in a van. What time is it?”

“Seven. And I can't think of what other possible reason you'd have to be sleeping in a freezing cold van with your hamster when there's a perfectly good bed in your apartment.”

Arthur shifted, huddled further down into his vest. “Can I put Galaham in your apartment? I don't think the cold is good for hamsters.”

“I don't think it's good for scrawny guys who live in vans either, but sure. So what happened with you and Vivi?”

“Nothing.”

“Arthur.” Lance drained the last of his coffee and gave him a stern look. “Look, you know I don't usually dig into your personal shit unless I need to, but humour me. Why are you here?”

“I have work today, don't I?”

“And you just had to bring in your hamster, a bunch of blankets, and a bag of clothes?”

“...yeah.”

“Did you and Vivi have a fight?”

“No. It's just... it's kind of complicated, can I stay here for a little while? Not for long, things are just kind of up in the air at the moment, and it'd be best for me to stay out of the picture.”

Lance's expression softened. “She meet someone else?”

“Kinda.”

Arthur felt a squeeze on his shoulder. “I'm sure he's not a patch on you.”

“He is. Always was.”

*

Arthur had woken up in the darkness, alone in the bed. His head throbbed. He figured out that he was still dressed, although the front of his t-shirt felt strangely stiff. After fumbling for the light switch, he eventually managed to sit up and place his feet on the floor. His reflection in the mirror looked hideous, all pale skin and cracked lips and dried blood, and his entire body buzzed and thrummed from memories of his earlier possession, still not feeling entirely like his. 

He needed to get away. He could feel Lewis nearby, still crackling through his veins somehow. It wasn't that he was afraid of Lewis killing him; if that were the case, it would be more of a relief. All of this would be over. 

But Lewis had just returned to their world, the world of the living. He'd already basically read the mind of his killer, he didn't need to see him every day. And that was why he crept around the apartment early that morning, gathering clothes, blankets, his toothbrush and stuffing them into a bag. Eventually, he tiptoed into the living room (which somehow seemed like an odd term, considering that Lewis was definitely in there somewhere, just not visible). Vivi was asleep on the couch, oversized scarf wrapped around her. Arthur glanced around, located that stupid blanket she liked, the one with sleeves, and threw it over her before grabbing Galaham's cage. 

Mystery gave him a confused look. Arthur simply gave him a sad smile and a wave, and left. 

*

Lance had been kind to him, just as he'd always been when Arthur was a teenager; he let Arthur use his shower, although the pressure was so low that Arthur stopped using hair gel, knowing that he couldn't possibly rinse it all out. He brought Arthur coffee in the morning, gave him extra blankets, and pleaded with him to at least sleep on his sofa. After the third night in the van, Arthur gave in, and slept in the warmth, feeling increasingly guilty, partly for taking up space in his uncle's apartment, and partly because he didn't deserve that warmth; Lewis spent over a year in a miserable, freezing, damp cave, and he couldn't deal with a few nights in a van?

It was a week later when Arthur was huddled in the van, sketching out some vague blueprints for a swivel joint for his elbow, when he heard another loud rattling at his back window. The blue silhouette was both familiar and terrifying. 

“Arthur! Open up!”

He gulped, wondering if the numerous blankets would work as camouflage. 

“Arthur, I know you're in there, I can see you moving.”

He sighed, and opened the back door. Mystery bounded into the van, lying his head on Arthur's lap. He gazed up at his former owner resentfully. 

“Hi, Mystery.”

Vivi cleared her throat. 

“Hi, Vivi.”

“Arthur, what the fuck do you think you're doing?”

“Excuse me?”

“You know what I mean. Why are you here? Not sure if you'd noticed, but you do have a home that isn't on wheels.”

“Yes, and it's currently haunted by Lewis. Who I killed.”

“So what, you're scared he's going to kill you? Because I asked him and he promised he wouldn't-”

“That's not why I'm here.”

Vivi arched an eyebrow. “Then why?”

“Like I said. I killed him. It's gotta be tough to adjust to our world, he shouldn't have to deal with looking at the reason he's dead in the first place. I just figured that you two would want to be left alone for a while, without me fucking everything up like I usually do. You know, catching up.”

Vivi's expression softened, albeit not by much. She patted Arthur's leg. 

“Move over.” She sat on a cushion next to him. “Very cosy. I would have invested in an inflatable mattress or something though, maybe a hot water bottle and a travel kettle.”

“I've been sleeping on Lance's couch, I mostly stay in here though. I don't want to get in his way or anything.”

“For someone who wants to stay out of everyone's way, you're causing a lot of trouble.”

Arthur frowned, picked at a loose thread on the blanket. “Am I?”

“Yep. Lance called me, asking what we fought over, for a start. He's worried about you. Says you keep waking up screaming.”

“I'm just having some trouble sleeping.”

“Well, no shit. Oh, and Lewis kinda wants to talk to you.”

“Does he?”

“Not really. But it's important that he does. You can't hide from him forever, Arthur.”

“I'm not hiding from him, I thought I was making things easier for him.”

“Well, you're not. Come home, talk to him. Arthur, this is kind of weird for me as well. I have the ghost of my boyfriend haunting my apartment, and the other- well, I don't know what to call you any more- hiding in his van because of some misplaced sense of guilt. And I just don't know how I'm supposed to fix this.” Her voice cracked, and the blanket twisted in her hands. “Come on, you're smart, you tell me. How do I do this, how do I make things OK?”

Mystery shifted over to her lap and looked expectantly at Arthur. “Well? Any ideas?”

Arthur grasped Vivi's hand, squeezing it tightly to his chest. “I'm sorry. I'll... I'll come back. I'll talk to Lewis. I can't make things go back to how they were, but I'll do what I can, OK?” 

No answer. 

“Vivi?”

She didn't meet his eyes, just continued to scratch behind Mystery's ears. “After Lewis died, you never... well, you still slept in the bed, and you hugged me sometimes, but... I don't know.”

Hours seemed to pass before he responded. “I'm sorry. I don't want you to think that it's you, or that I only ever loved Lewis, or anything like that, I just... well, I'd already killed him. I didn't want to-” he wasn't sure what to say. 

“Add insult to injury?”

“Something like that.”

The kiss on his cheek was unexpected, but left a strange residual feeling that only served to remind him of how long it had been since he'd experienced any physical contact that wasn't solely sympathetic. 

“I missed you, Arthur. Please come home soon, OK?”

He nodded, waved Vivi and Mystery off, and got back to work on his blueprints, cheek still burning with guilt. Before he knew it, hours had passed, and, once again, his uncle was clambering into the van, this time with a beer. 

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Look, sorry I didn't tell you Vivi was here first, she's kind of insistent.”

“Yeah, I know.” Arthur offered Lance a cigarette. Lance took it, but shook his head. 

“You still haven't quit?”

“Nope. Have you?”

“That's different. I'm an old man, quitting isn't going to do me any good by this point.”

“Please. You're what, fifty two?”

“A good thirty years older than you. You're the one who should quit.”

“Whatever.” Arthur blew his smoke out into the cold night air. “Hey, when did you call Vivi?”

“Third night you stayed on my sofa.”

“Why?”

Lance shrugged. “I was worried. Look, after everything that happened, I just wanted to make sure you'd be OK, you know? I remember how you were just after the accident, obviously I'm going to worry when you just show up here with no explanation and wake up screaming every morning. I know it's not my place to interfere, but-”

“No, I get it. Thanks, though. I mean it.” Arthur expertly flicked his cigarette butt into the gutter outside. “Thanks for letting me crash here. I guess I should go, though. You know. Sort things out with Lewis and Vivi.”

“Lewis?”

It felt like missing a step when walking down stairs, but Arthur caught himself. “Vivi. Sorry. Force of habit.”

Lance nodded, still looking concerned. “Well, OK. Just remember, you're always welcome here, alright?”

Later, Arthur drove back to the apartment, Galaham's cage precariously balanced next to him. Surprisingly, this felt different to the last time he'd gone to confront Lewis, less like he was walking into a death trap. Lewis wouldn't harm him, he decided, no matter how much he deserved it. Even in death, he cared about Vivi too much for that. Which left the question of what he planned to do, if anything. It couldn't be as simple as forgiveness. 

He almost felt as though he should knock before entering what was technically his home. Instead, he unlocked the door, kicking his shoes off. The apartment was dimly lit, although someone glowed softly at the end of the hallway. His eyes were still shrouded in darkness, but there he was. 

“Welcome back.”

Arthur stared at Lewis, unsure of how to greet him. “Um... thanks.” A brief silence. “Where's Vivi?”

“She took Mystery for a walk. I assume she wanted us to have a little talk. Catch up. Something like that.”

“She's been very subtle about it.”

“Heh. Yeah.” Lewis didn't seem to know where to look. “So. Anyway. Are you going to stand there all night, or...”

“Right. Sorry.”

And, as he sat opposite the one person he'd wanted to speak to for so long, all the excuses and apologies and well-rehearsed speeches he'd had in mind for this precise occasion faded to nothing. When Vivi arrived home later, she found the two simply sat on the couch, watching an old Simpsons episode on TV. Deciding that, at least, Arthur was alive and unharmed, she decided to leave it. 

She would tell them about the potential case tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wild Lance appeared (again)! I would like to delve a bit deeper into his character and such at some point, not sure when.   
> I figured that, given how Lewis has already hitched a ride in Arthur's head, there is literally nothing Arthur can say to him that he's not already aware of when it comes to his death. Chances are, Lewis doesn't want to hear it anyway; he's at the point where he knows it wasn't Arthur's fault, he's just struggling with shifting the focus of his resentment, and any more apologising on Arthur's part is just going to piss him off even more.   
> Also, what a surprise, Vivi's got some shenanigans planned.   
> Usual applies, feedback, comments, etc are all appreciated, and thanks for the kudos so far!


	4. Vivi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *apologetically shuffles in* Hi guys, I'm back. Er... sorry about that.

Mr. Hewings was not a patient man.   
“Friday? The soonest you can do is Friday? How am I supposed to spend two days living like this?”

Vivi sighed and squeezed her phone in frustration. “I'm sorry, Mr. Hewings, but that's the soonest we have available. Now, you've mentioned the mirror issue, is there anything else you're experiencing? Cold spots, problems with the electrics-”

“I'm sorry, are you exorcists or home improvement consultants? And no, it keeps appearing in mirrors, and, according to my wife, crying late at night, but that could just be our neighbour, she's going through a divorce, you know, female theatrics, trying to get him to stay.”

Vivi jabbed her finger at the phone and grimaced, meeting the eyes of Arthur, who was shaking his head in amusement. “We'll see you on Friday, Mr. Hewings. In the meantime, perhaps you could try covering the mirrors.”

“And one more thing. Don't even think about turning up any later that nine, I want this fixed quickly, and without anyone knowing that I willingly paid a bunch of kooks to come into my house and start chanting or whatever it is you do. It's enough of an insult that my wife's making me pay you for this nonsense to begin with without the neighours knowing-”

“I promise we'll be as discrete as possible. Goodbye, Mr. Hewings.”

Arthur burst out laughing as soon as she hung up. The sound wasn't unwelcome, she thought. He didn't laugh an awful lot these days. 

“Discrete!”

“Well, we can be discrete.”

“Let's hope so, we're driving there in a brightly-coloured van with a ghost and a demon dog.”

“I AM paying some attention, you know” muttered Lewis, who had been flipping through one of the books.

“Sorry. But... you know, what if he gets freaked out? He wants us to get rid of a ghost, not bring another one into his house.”

“He won't know Lew's a ghost. He still won't accept the existence of this one, and it's literally staring out at him from mirrors.”

“About that; any luck with the research?”

Vivi stretched, jerking her foot in the general direction of the pile of books on the coffee table. “We've got a few ideas, but honestly, it's kinda difficult to know what we can do about it until we actually meet the ghost. Here's a weird one, apparently it doesn't have any features.”

Arthur groaned. “Not a shadow person, please not another shadow person.”

“Nah, it doesn't look like a shadow, it's more greyish-white. And it's always there, staring out-”

“Oh man, I think I'd prefer the shadow people now. Wait, how does it stare if it has no eyes?”

“Shut up and let me finish. Basically, it takes the place of your reflection; you can't see yourself, just that thing and the reflection of whatever's behind you. Weirdly, it stays still, it doesn't mimic your movements or anything. And this is every single mirror in the house, it seems to move from mirror to mirror, I guess. I asked Hewings if he and his wife could look into a different mirror at the same time, but he refused and his wife is freaking out as it is. Can't really blame her.”

“We've had haunted mirrors before, but they involved the spirit being stuck in one specific mirror. Unless several identical spirits just happened to set up home in that house, I think this sounds more like a revenge thing.” Lewis snapped the old book shut with a cloud of dust. “If the ghost's powerful enough to make itself visible, it should, in theory, be able to communicate with us on some level. It takes time and a motive to be visible to the living.” He pretended he didn't see Arthur shift uncomfortably at the word “motive”. 

“Well, most of them, anyway.” Vivi shrugged. “We can see them more easily because even when we were less... receptive to them, I guess, we were still looking. If this couple- and I don't take them to be the kind of people to look for ghosts- can see it, it's powerful.”

“So why isn't it communicating with them? It obviously wants to be noticed, it's showing up in something designed specifically for looking into.”

“Maybe it's not about being noticed, but about stopping them from seeing their reflections?” Arthur petted Galaham, currently residing in the pocket of his vest, and the hamster crawled out and wheeled onto his lap. “I guess that raises the question of why it would be so important to that ghost to block their reflections. Like... it could be vengeance, but maybe it's trying to help them, or protect them?”

“From what? Who needs protecting from their own reflection?”

“Narcissus?” 

Vivi sighed. “It's so irritating, we're going to look like complete amateurs if we turn up and don't know what to do, but there are so many types of hauntings, and we don't know anything until we can talk with the ghost. If we can even talk to it. Lew, you can try, right? You could talk to those little formless ghosts in the mansion when we couldn't, maybe this one is like them?”

“I'll try, but I doubt this ghost is like them. The deadbeats looked like that because they'd been dead long enough to lose all sense of self. They wouldn't have been strong enough to possess a mirror. Or a network of mirrors. Arthur, what's so funny?”

Arthur straightened his face. “Deadbeats. Er... good one.” He hastily placed Galaham back in his cage. “Anyway, I'm in work in an hour, one of the other guys has a dentists appointment. So... I'll see you guys later.”

Vivi frowned. “You work about twenty minutes away, why are you leaving now?”

“Just thought I'd get a head start. The stock room needs cleaning, for a start. And there's not much we can do about the ghost until we're actually there, so there's no point sitting around talking about it, right?”

He was uneasily tugging his sneakers on, and Vivi noticed the darting eyes and fumbling fingers that usually accompanied any situation that made him anxious. 

“Are you OK?”

“I'm fine, you two... I'll see you later, bye.”

He practically ran for the door. Vivi sighed, waited until she head the clicking of his keys leaving the lock, and frowned at Lewis. 

“What?”

“You know what. You going all elementary school teacher on him. Do you know how long it's been since I've seen him crack a smile?”

“Well, what was I meant to think?”

“That he was laughing at your stupid deadbeats pun! Because they're dead and they sing, and Arthur appreciates a good pun.”

Lewis prodded at the bars of Galaham's cage. The little creature crept back into his bedding, apparently unwilling to be held. “Look, you get why I'm on edge around him, right? I'm trying. And we do get on, sometimes. Sort of.”

“Only when I'm here.”

“No, actually, he got out of bed at three in the morning the other day because he had a weird dream or something. Insisted on showing me the Sailor Moon reboot. Well, two episodes of it, anyway. I get that he's trying, and so am I, but come on, it's awkward.”

“You loved him once.”

“And now it feels like when there's a new kid at school and your teacher tries to make you be friends with him out of pity. That's basically it. I know he's sorry, I know it wasn't his fault to begin with, I know he's been through a lot of shit as well, I'm pretty good at hiding in whatever room he isn't in when he gets up after a nightmare. But nothing changes the fact that he's what I think of when I think of how I died. There are moments when it almost seems back to normal, but that just makes me think of why we aren't back to normal, and...”

He trailed off, and Vivi got up, slumped on the same beanbag, and wriggled under his arm. They lay there for a while, and she closed her eyes, feeling his fingers twiddling her hair. 

“I'm scared, Vivi. And I have no reason to be, because I will never be in any kind of mortal peril again.”

“Maybe that's why you're scared.” The hand brushing her bangs to one side froze. “The most we had to worry about before was that. The possibility of dying. And now you're imagining things that are even worse.”

“The cave was hell. I don't want that for you.”

“I know.”

“I don't even want it for Arthur, not really. I did for a while.”

“What do you want for him now?” She thoughtfully swirled her finger in one of the less solid parts of his hair. It tingled. 

“I want to stop being angry. Mystery says that'll take time, and Lord knows I have enough of that. He doesn't, though. What if, one day, I suddenly feel like everything can and should go back to normal, how it was before, but he's dead by then? What if it literally takes his lifetime for me to stop seeing him as my death: personified?”

Vivi felt his arms tighten around her waist. She moved up to kiss him on the cheek. “Then you can talk it out with his ghost. I can imagine he'd stick around for a while. Talk about unfinished business, it's his turn to wash up, and has he done it? No.”

Lewis managed a crackling, static sound that was presumably laughter for him now, and pressed another kiss to her forehead, then her nose, then-

It was so easy, his lips flickering and buzzing against hers, different, but there was the same rhythm and she'd just missed the security of warmth on her face and close contact. When she eventually pulled away, they lay in silence for a while. She remembered how sometimes, when they were like this, she tried to match up her breaths with his (she did the same thing with Arthur mostly when trying to haul him out of some deep-seated panic). 

“Lew?”

“Mm?”

“Do you think you'll still want to do this when I'm all middle-aged and harping on about my hot flushes?”

“I guess. We could make it like The Graduate or something.”

“What about when I'm, like, really old?”

“Well, I wouldn't want your hip acting up, so you'd have to be in a comfy chair.”

“You'd get a piece of butterscotch afterwards.”

“Well, that's me sold. I guess Arthur could make you a replacement hip, although he'd probably fix it so you could leap ninety feet in the air or something.”

“That'd be cool. Fuck paranormal stuff, I could be a legit crime fighting old bag.” She sat up, overly warm from the scarf and the closeness. There was a brief silence until Lewis spoke up. 

“Afterwards, did you and Arthur stay together? Like, just as a normal couple?”

She froze, then her shoulders sank like stones. “No. I mean, there was no break up talk or anything, but... Lew, you should have seen him. He could barely function at first. I couldn't even reach him on some days, he just didn't respond to anything.” Lewis sat up. “And I don't want you to think I'm trying to sell the pity thing with him, it's just... well, he slept in the bed. That took some coaxing. He didn't think he deserved to, I swear he started working on that arm at least partly for an excuse to sleep at his desk. Because he didn't think he should be in the bed, and he didn't want to wake me up when he had nightmares.”

Lewis unwrapped the scarf, draped it across the chair. “Did you ever ask where you stood?”

She gathered up the mug and plate she'd used for breakfast. “Not until I went to talk to him at the garage. From what I gather, he felt like staying with me in that way would be an insult to you. I didn't know that at the time. I tried to kiss him once, properly, and he freaked out, it took an hour to calm him down.” She walked into the kitchen, trying to keep her voice steady. “I stopped trying after that. I wondered if you were the only one he really loved, for a while. So... yeah. Long story short, I think we're friends who happen to live together and share a bed sometimes.” The dishes abandoned in the sink, she flopped down on the sofa. “I miss him. I know you probably don't need to hear that, but I do.”

Lewis nodded. “I understand.”

When Arthur got home from work, he found her, once again, sleeping against Lewis' form. He smiled sadly at Lewis, who managed a polite nod, and sat quietly in the corner, sifting through the already worn books for anything relevant to their case. And, when Vivi woke up and decided that she'd rather be asleep on an actual bed than a strangely solid ghost, Arthur told both of them that he didn't feel tired. 

Something about the fact that they went to bed together both stung, and felt comforting to him. 

*

It was still dark and unseasonably frosty outside, and they had been in the van for an hour now. Not wanting to make things even more awkward in their tired, unenthusiastic states, Vivi sat in the front of the van with Arthur while Lewis sat in the back with Mystery. The only thing keeping Vivi awake was being jostled around by the shot suspension on the van, and she couldn't help but feel extremely hard done by. 

“Fucking Hewings. You know, if the guy was that worried about his neighbours not finding out, he could have just asked us to turn up late at night instead of first thing in the morning.”

“I got that last time you said that, Vi.” Arthur groggily rubbed at one of his eyes. 

“It's true though. Asshole. Remember that stupid comment about-”

“About his neighbour and womanly ways, yeah, I remember. Look, there's a diner in a couple miles, we've got plenty of time, let's go and get some coffee, OK?”

“Hmph.” Vivi withdrew into her scarf.

“It'll make you feel better.”

“I like tea better.”

“OK, tea then. And hey, they'll do food, you can grab something for breakfast.”

She poked her head out of the scarf slightly. “They better do French toast.”

Lewis smiled, in spite of himself. He leaned forward and prodded her shoulder. “Hey, it's a diner in the ass-end of nowhere, even if they don't do that, they'll do something sufficiently greasy.”

Arthur glanced at him in the rear view mirror. “Yeah, as you can probably see, Vivi still needs a full stomach to function when awake. We had a drive like this once, but there was literally nothing for miles around, and she ended up eating-”

“Oh come on, that was necessary. And you did leave them on the passenger seat, I called dibs.” Vivi pouted. 

“It was a whole bag of carrots! They were for Galaham!”

“And I replaced them, so quit whining. Also, that was both the healthiest and most unsatisfying breakfast I've ever had, so thanks Arthur.”

“Well, sorry, I'll try to buy a buttload of breakfast burritos for my tiny pet rodent next time, in case you want to dig into his treats.”

“Hey, until Galaham contributes to investigations, his treats are mine until stated otherwise.”

As Arthur glanced into the mirror and smiled in amusement back at him, Lewis couldn't help but wonder how he could see a reflection of him when even Lewis couldn't at that moment. 

* 

Two hours later, and with a recharged Vivi who, while deprived of French toast, did share an enormous stack of pancakes with Mystery, they parked two streets away from the Hewings residence, and got walking. It seemed normal, she decided, feeling the heavy book bag beat at her hip. Almost like the last time they were together. Lewis was wearing sunglasses, and Arthur was thinner and more tired-looking than last time, still sucking down yet another energy drink (she managed to stuff a couple of bites of pancake into his mouth at the diner, but his stomach remained shrunk by caffeine). Mystery trotted along beside her, pausing, despite himself, to smell every bush and street light. 

The house itself was virtually indistinguishable from any other house on the street, aside from the number painted above the garage, and a mail box carved in the perfect likeness of a swan. It even had a white picket fence. Arthur scrunched up his can and stuffed it in his pocket. 

“Vivi, are you sure we're not actually in Edward Scissorhands right now?”

Mr. Hewings, it turned out, was exactly what Vivi had expected, and more (or, arguably, less). She wasn't sure why he was wearing a suit, since she had told him that it could possibly take all day, she just assumed that he was trying to appear the more rational figure. Judging by the look he gave her upon seeing them on his doorstep, it was unnecessary. 

“What the hell is that?”

“Just a dog. This is Mystery. He kind of travels with us.”

“Not the dog, I'm not a fucking idiot, I know what a dog is. I mean that.” Mr. Hewings roughly jabbed Arthur's left arm. Arthur managed to shoot Vivi a “can you believe this guy?” look undetected. 

“It's my arm, sir.”

“How? It's made of metal, for Christ's sake.”

“Well, I made it, Mr. Hewings.”

“With what?”

“My other arm.”

The man looked as though he wanted to tell Arthur to get off his property, but settled for turning to Lewis, who was apparently struggling not to laugh.

“And you. Are you blind?”

Lewis shook his head. “I can see fine, I'm just highly sensitive to light. Comes with the whole exorcism thing, you know?”

Mr. Hewings rubbed his forehead in frustration. “I'm sorry, have I hired exorcists or a support group? Doesn't matter. Come in. Not the dog, he can be tied up in the yard.”

*

The first thing to do, obviously, was what Mr and Mrs Hewings had refused to do in the first place. 

“Pauline's staying with her mother until I promise that this nonsense is over.” Mr. Hewings glowered at Vivi, who was currently peering into her own reflection. “Obviously, she wants to come home as soon as possible, so if you could... fix this before the end of today, I'm sure we'd both appreciate it.”

Vivi felt nothing. Just a pang of pity for Mrs. Hewings. 

“Mr. Hewings, when I look into this mirror, I just see myself.” She raised her voice. “Arthur, how about the mirror in the hall?”

“Nothing in there, just my reflection.”

“Lewis, how about the bathroom?”

“Same.”

Vivi frowned. “So, whatever it is only wants to communicate with you and your wife. And you said there haven't been any deaths in the family?”

“Of course not.”

“Can you stand in front of this mirror? I just want to look at your reflection from a different standpoint.”

He did. And the silhouette in the mirror was grey fog forced into the shape of a human, the fog swirling aimlessly. Vivi noticed that it didn't even seem angry.

“OK. Well, the first thing we're going to do is a standard exorcism. Think of it like the equivalent of turning something off, then on again. It's unlikely to work for a spirit strong enough to do this, but, y'know, troubleshooting, right?”

“Miss.... whatever your name is, I could get this service from my ISP. I'm giving you two more hours, and my mirrors had better be back to normal. If they are not, you can leave, and wait to hear from my lawyer.”

Lewis strolled in, carrying Vivi's kit. “Vi, I'll take Mystery back to the van, OK? Get out of range.”

Mr. Hewings' head jerked up. “Out of range?”

Vivi nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. While animals are useful when it comes to locating spirits, exorcisms aren't good for them. It can actually drive the spirit into the animal, and that's... something we like to avoid.” Lewis gave her a thumbs up behind their clients' head, and left. He actually needed to get as far away from the exorcism as he could to avoid being caught up in it.

“What do I care if your dog becomes a ghost or whatever happens?”

Vivi wasn't sure exactly how stupid Mr. Hewings was, but decided to take a chance. 

“It becomes a werewolf.”

All the blood drained from the man's face. “That's where werewolves come from?”

“Yep. That, or being bitten by another werewolf. Obviously, you don't want to start off an epidemic of lycanthropy, which is why Lewis is taking Mystery back to the van a few streets away. I'm sure you can understand that.” Mr. Hewings nodded wordlessly. “Great. OK, so I'll get Arthur in here, and we'll try a standard exorcism in a few minutes.”

*

“I can't believe that worked.”

They had gone to a nearby coffee house after a delighted Mr. Hewings had peered into a mirror, only to find his own reflection. He spent a good hour wandering around the house, staring at reflective surfaces, just to make sure that the spirit hadn't set up camp in his TV screen or his cars paint job. Nothing. For all their concerns, the ghost had just... gone. Vivi was baffled, but admitted that it was the easiest paycheck they'd ever earned. The exorcism hadn't been completely uneventful; the wardrobe doors had rattled, and the temperature in the room had dropped significantly, but once it was over, it hardly seemed to matter. Lewis had come back with Mystery, they had scanned the house, and there was nothing tied to it. And she felt so elated, just so glad that after all this hardship, she got at least more case in with her boys, and it was a success. Lewis was disappointed at having to disappear during exorcisms, Mystery was annoyed at not being allowed in the coffee shop, and Arthur had barely said anything, presumably still shaken from the rattling wardrobe doors, but everything, for now, seemed like her dreams, her memories, when things actually went right. 

It wasn't until they were back at the van, with no-one around that Mystery spoke up. 

“Before we get back in the van, you should probably know that we appear to have brought the spirit with us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to keep writing this, but maybe work a bit more on their various adventures as well as how they deal with working together again, hence this. I guess I like "the gang is back together" more as a character development dealie than an ending.   
> Really sorry about the delay, combination of work stuff, death in the family, and a two week period during which my brain turned into soup. I will try to update a bit more frequently.   
> As always, comments/feedback always welcome, and hopefully the first chapter of part 5 will be with you relatively soon. Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> As much as I'd like to think that it was as simple as Lewis going "Oh, Arthur DIDN'T kill me on purpose? Neat, let's all get back together and forget this ever happened", I think it'd probably take a while and be awkward as hell.  
> Anyway, I'm going to work on giving Green Asshole Cave Demon some background in this one, plus how to get used to your (ex?) boyfriend being dead, how to deal with your (ex?) boyfriend having anything to do with your death, how to console... souls, and interior design for vans. Yes, really.  
> Usual gubbins apply, reviews/feedback/comments/kudos always appreciated, and high five to the nice people who read these things. Over and out for now!


End file.
